


Overly Mangsty Fic Title Goes Here (Shorten That to Overly Mangsty)

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:24:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fine tasting of key moments in Deadpool's life, mostly revolving around Cable. Mostly involving heart ache and suffering. Also mostly awesome and action-packed. Included is porn too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Butt sex and subtext

Nights like these kept him alive. Well, figuratively at least, non-figuratively he couldn't die. But if he could die, he knew it was nights like these that would stop that from happening. A small part of him actually liked to believe they did, immortality or not. Something about this whole fiasco on repeat made life live-able.

There was a cold steel hand on his left shoulder and a warm flesh grip on his waist. Deadpool was not a small man but next to Cable he always felt insignificant; In size, in import, in effect on Earth, in purpose, in everything. If he tilted his head up he could comfortably kiss Cable's jaw, which he did frequently. He'd folded his mask up just enough to free his lips and knew immediately that Nate's mind had been in a torrent.

Stubble met Wade's lips; stubble that couldn't yet be seen, only felt. Nate preferred to be exceptionally clean shaven--he was exceptionally everything, all the time--and any amount of stubble was considered unruly. The fact that there was enough for Wade to feel it under his lips meant Nate had been busy, had been distracted, had been pulled away from reality without actually leaving it... again.

Deadpool lifted his hands from the waistband of Cable's boxers--the only clothing he was currently wearing--and draped them ever-so-masculinely over broad shoulders. He felt Cable shift his weight, felt the hands on his body loosen. He knew that sign, he didn't like that sign. That was Cable's resignation to do something else, to give in to the hundreds of more important tasks ahead of him, to ignore Wade's obsessive need and wander off again.

No. Not happening. Wade had not fucked up his most recent hit on purpose just because he knew Nate was staying close by only to be turned away after breaking in through the window. His hands had fully healed already and he was not going to be turned down. Not tonight, not now.

/Please?/

Wade relaxed as Nate turned his head. There was a pause before Wade felt the weight of a cheek against his forehead. Nate's arms moved like snakes around Wade's costumed body. He soon had a large hand on the back of his neck and in the small of his back. Wade moved his own hands up into Nate's hair, tangling fingers into it as their lips met. Nate tightened his hold and wrinkled Wade's red and black get-up against his bare chest.

Cable rubbed small circles on Deadpool's back. It was totally romantic, and Deadpool could imagine candles and Barry White and the soft glow of a honeymoon suite. Cable's metallic fingers slid around on smooth lycra until they found the buckle on Deadpool's belt. The heavy contraption hit the ground and miraculously nothing went off, nothing broke, nothing beeped. Deadpool's feet shuffled backwards as Cable started moving forward.

Wade quickly re-situated his hands at Nate's boxers. He could feel Nate's carefully guarded affections against his navel, knew he'd been aroused himself since breaking the window with his elbow. Suddenly clothing was painful. Wade grumbled as Nate's hands fooled with the hem of his shirt, curiously as if they'd never been there before. He groaned as a warm hand moved up under the shirt, brushing scars and eager flesh. Wade tipped his head forward and pressed his forehead into Nate's neck.

"Can I leave the mask on?" Wade groaned.

"You know I don't care." Nate returned in a surprisingly weightless voice. "You also know I prefer it gone. You don't need to hide from me."

"Nooo," Wade moaned, stepping backwards again with all the grace of a four month old great dane. "Don't tease me with sappy romance. I'm a sucker for sappy romance."

This earned the rarest of sounds in any galaxy--the chuckle. The soft, uncontrolled, truely, honestly amused chuckle. The chuckle that meant somehow even for the briefest of seconds, Wade had managed to firmly lock Nate into one reality, one moment, one second... and Nate enjoyed it. He enjoyed it enough to vocalize it.

In payment for the chuckle Wade placed his hands on Nate's chest and stopped their forward motion. Nate's arms moved away, curious but expectant, and the white-haired mutant fixed his eyes on his partner. Wade reached down and pulled his shirt off over his head, catching the mask in the tangle of clothing almost as if by accident. He flung the whole ensemble to the floor and looked up.

"Oops. Must've gotten caught in the shirt."

"Must have." Cable smirked and Deadpool felt his heart curl up and die happy. He wasn't sure what god he had pleased to earn him so much of Cable's completely undivided and--dare he think--eager, fun attention... but he needed to figure it out so he could do it again.

Nate moved forward and caught Wade's face in one hand. He leaned forward and kissed scarred lips long and purposefully. Wade's hands were quickly back on Nate's upper chest, roving and massaging everything he could touch. They were such desperate, pleading touches. They caused a stirring of emotions in Nate that he often took time to decipher and separate... but he found somehow Wade could feel that. Somehow Wade knew when he was thinking too much, and so for the merc's sake, Nate tried not to think. Nate tried... and sometimes it worked.

Cable pushed them back into the bed. He slowed his momentum to help Deadpool lie back. Deadpool wrapped his arms over Cable's neck, and the mutant crawled onto the bed. Cable shifted to rest his right hip on the bed, chest flush atop Deadpool's, legs entwined. He leaned down to continue his onslaught of long kissing, and felt Deadpool's arms wiggling frantically between them. Cable tilted his head to watch Deadpool struggle to remove his pants as quickly as possible, kicking off his boots noisily in the process.

Nate nuzzled into the side of Wade's face, turning the merc's head so that bare neck was exposed. Nate turned his lips free to explore scarred lines and strained muscles in the taunt neck. He heard Wade murmuring something into his shoulder. Nate slowly slid his hand down Wade's body, feeling hiccups of exuberant muscles as fingers neared the navel. He let his thumb dip into the curve before continuing downward.

"Missed you... Oooh missed you." Wade was whimpering on repeat, voice picking up volume as a cold metal hand cupped his erection.

"Shhh," Nate sighed into the crook of Wade's neck. The words started his mind back up, bringing guilt and questions to the forefront of his mind when it should have been locked on the writhing man beneath him.

"Missed you more than... than I miss a limb when it's severed. Those take... so long to grow back. Missed you--oooh--more."

"Wade, hush." Cable repeated, tone calm and steady. He began a slow, leisurely stroke to Deadpool's erection. He attempted to pet the words away, pet his own guilt away. He sneered and was glad Deadpool could not see the expression. He was thinking... he was drifting and as was always the case he didn't want to. He wanted to stay; he wanted to know 'now' as a true form of time and he wanted to live 'now.'

And as always Wade knew, somehow he sensed it. Nate was caught off-guard as Wade struggled to pull down Nate's boxers, wiggling free of his own pants with Nate's hand as an anchor. Nate sat up, pulling reluctantly away from Wade in order to give them room to completely disrobe. Nate moved to his knees, and then stood off the edge of the bed. He slid his boxers down smoothly then watched in amusement as Wade gave up any semblance of maturity and kicked off his pants--turning them completely inside-out--like a child.

Under Nate's curious gaze--which caused the smallest hint of a blush to cross Wade's body--Wade moved himself back onto the bed, slithering up towards the pillows on his elbows. Nate continued to watch silently as Wade nervously gathered a few pillows and settled himself into them like a nesting bird. Brown eyes scanned the room before landing on Nate with a crooked grin.

Nate joined Wade, moving like a cautious predator under the eyes of his prey still not sure if they'd really seen him there. He moved until his head rested just below Wade's chest, and shifted to his side. Propping himself on his right arm he returned the left to Wade. He watched the soft twitches in Wade's face as a metal grip fell over his erection. Nate watched as lips parted for a soft sigh.

Wade closed his eyes and sunk back into the pillows. He wanted to return the touches, he practically oozed with need to give and not receive, but Nate was always in charge. Wade followed Nate's lead and not the other way around. Nate was strange about touching and about being touched and Wade knew from experience that too much control taken away from Nate in that situation and things went sour. Wade understood that... damn did he understand that. At the same time he just wanted to lavish kisses and touches and less PG-13 things onto Nate, holding back made him antsy.

It was hard work to lie back and let Nate please him. He gripped the pillows tightly, tried not to roll his hips, bit his lips but it didn't help.

"Can't just... Wanna touch... hmm~mmmm... Nathan." Wade couldn't keep a leg from bending upwards, couldn't stop his back from arching away from the bed. Warm, organic metal fingers closed around his erection, thumb stroking against his tip.

Nate leaned forward, ignoring or rejecting Wade's request. He began kissing Wade's chest and stomach. He used each one as a command to himself, as punctuation for a sentence: Now. Here. Present. Reality. He could do this; he'd done it before. Even with the inkling of a young boy far-away, a young boy in serious trouble, Nate could put himself first... put Wade first. He deserved that much. They both did.

Wade couldn't help but feel a great weight followed each kiss placed on his bare scars. They were poigniant, and important. He rose to meet them, to bring his flesh half-way there to perhaps lessen the weight they carried. He felt a sigh against his navel and Nate's hand moved away from Wade's erection. A temporary flush of impatience was tempered by knowledge that things had just begun. Wade was no mutant but he had stolen stamina out the ass--poor choice of words--and he knew in the right frame of mind he and Nate could go all night.

Cable slid his hand to grip Deadpool's waist. He maneuvered himself with grace a body so large didn't seem to possess, and ended up lounging between Deadpool's legs. He pressed another kiss dead center on Deadpool's chest, right over a star of scars. The raised lines overlapped and criss-crossed and made any kind of distinguishing impossible. There was a burn there, at least three separate gunshots--one at point blank range--, a large gash from a sword and at least one puncture from a saber. Cable knew he was responsible for the small webbing of electrical scaring that laced away from the center.

Wade's insecurities threatened to swallow him whole as Nate's mouth moved lower... and lower, each creeping decent echoed by kisses heavy enough to cause Atlas grief. He hated the unabashed attention. He reached down, releasing the innocent pillows who had done nothing to warrant his strangulation attempts, and found Nate's shoulders. Confident and seldom sweet lips stalled just above the head of Wade's erection, just below the navel. Muscles in Wade's abdomen spasmed with the light tickle of breath.

Nate parted his lips and stroked his tongue up Wade's length, slow and purposeful. He knew the over-abundance of scar tissue made Wade tragically numb, not completely but enough that a little extra effort was required to make touches seem soft but trip nerves all the same. The scrambling of fingertips on his shoulders told Nate he had done his job. He repeated the action as he slid his hands to the insides of Wade's thighs. He slowly pulled enough thought away to slide open the bedside table drawer, slowly fished around with invisible hands until he found what he needed.

Wade gritted his teeth together and closed his eyes. Blow jobs were a double-edged sword, pitting Wade in a chasm locked in by 'oh sweet tacos this is the best feeling in the world' and 'that's gotta be super gross, my dick is super gross, how can he be enjoying this, he's gotta hate this, god please stop hating me'. His toes curled in as Nate took the whole of his head into his mouth without hesitation. Wade whimpered like a puppy kicked away from it's siblings, thighs trying to clench and close in and force Nate out.

Nate flattened his hands on the insides of Wade's thighs, ignoring the impulsive squeeze Wade had attempted. It didn't take a telepath to read what made Wade so uncomfortable about this kind of wanton attention, and Nate wanted to do what he could to illustrate to Wade that it was all right. A relationship was built on trust going both ways and...

Nate quickly closed his eyes and swallowed hard around Wade without warning. He let Wade's yelp draw his mind back to the present. He was drifting again; drifting into memories and guilt and thoughts that would only trigger his need to leave. There were hundreds of people out there who needed his help. There were universes being destroyed, children being orphaned and here sat Nate indulging himself. Guilt was a gateway into running from his problems. Wade was one of those people he needed to help. Wade deserved Nate's undivided attention... at least once, at least now.

Now. Here. Present. Reality.

Wade pushed himself up onto his elbows and pawed at Nate's shoulder with one hand. His pupils were blown wide, his lungs gasping for air he knew he didn't really need. Nate really knew how to catch him off-guard. Wade would have been perfectly content to just let Nate do that again and finish him--temporary embarrassment not-withstanding--but he couldn't take that, not tonight. No he needed something more, he selfishly wanted Nate all to himself for a little longer. He licked his lips and managed to find a croak of his voice.

"Not that--that didn't feel mind-blowing," he chuckled hoarsely, "but if... could you not do that again?" His voice whimpered in reluctance to say the words.

Nate pulled himself away from Wade's erection and glanced up at him. It was a lewd angle, he was certain, poised as he was between the merc's legs. He nodded, certain he understood what Wade was trying to say. He moved to sit on his knees between Wade's legs and picked up the small tube of lube he'd dropped on the side of the bed just a second earlier. Nate watched Wade nod slowly, his own blue eyes glazing over just slightly. He was right, he could read Wade like an open book. Wade wanted this to last, he wasn't in the mood for a quick fling... the same thing they'd been doing all year.

Wade sucked in a breath and told himself to relax as Nate opened the lube. His body--currently having an identity crisis and seeming to forget it was the body of a thirty something immortal mercenary covered in scars and sores and deciding instead it was the body of an eighteen-year-old virgin in his idol's lap--shuddered in anticipation. A warm hand paused to touch his inner thigh and Wade cracked a grin as Nate leaned in for a kiss.

"You're going to kill me." Wade moaned, words muffled as he spoke against Nate's kiss.

"What dramatic irony if sex really was the one thing that could kill you." Nate dropped his head to kiss Wade's throat.

"Damn. I love dramatic irony. Maybe not when it's directed at oooooo..." Wade's voice turned into a moan, vibrating under Nate's lips. A cold, wet finger pressed determinedly into Wade and left no room for negotiation.

Nate continued to assault Wade's neck as he curled his finger inside the merc, pulling it out slowly before sinking it back in as deep as his position would let him. He could feel Wade's hitching breath from the inside, feel his body relax. A desperate hand clutched at Nate's metallic anchor, while desperate fingers tangled into short white hair. Nate gathered a small amount of concentration and began sliding non-existant hands up Wade's chest, massaging and caressing scarred flesh. He spent a long moment on mangled pectorals as he added a second finger and stretched the opening wide.

Wade couldn't concentrate on anything. Nate's lips were on his throat, hands were all over his chest, fingers were preparing him for better things and none of it stuck long enough to form a coherent thought. Wade understood why and if he could cum gratitude he'd be Old Faithful. Nate understood better than anyone what went on inside Wade's head. Wade was pretty damned sure Nate had pried a little deeper than he'd admitted to and got a face-full of understanding. Now, Wade noticed, in times like these Nate liked to overwhelm the merc. He did it so damned good too.

Nate removed his fingers from Wade, nipping the crook of a scarred neck as he did so. Leaving two telekenetic hands on Wade's chest he subtly added two more hands at Wade's hips. These hands added anchor, added weight and tension to keep Wade grounded. Nate reached down with his real hand to stroke himself a few times, smearing lube along his girth while Wade mewled under the attention of hands that didn't exist. He breathed heavily against Wade's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut at the pure physical sensation, focusing all his available concentration on anticipating the next move.

There was a twinge of pain in his side and Nate jerked slightly. He couldn't spare that much concentration, apparently, and divided his mind more unequally between his lover and the techno-organism eating away at his left side. The pain was echoed by Wade's hand, gripping at the junction of flesh and machine as he thrust against the non-hands at his hips.

"You're so quiet tonight." Nate whispered, reaching down to slide a hand behind each of Wade's knees.

"Trying not to... ruin the moment." Wade groaned, relaxing and letting Nate spread his legs in an unabashed show of lust and trust. Words that very rarely coincided, but rhymed so pretty. "Is it... working?" Wade gasped.

Nate nodded wordlessly, using an unseen grip to line himself up. He slid his hands around from Wade's knees, up the merc's thighs until he replaced invisible grips at scarred hips. He dug his thumbs into giving flesh as he penetrated Wade in a single slow thrust. He took his time without pause to fill every inch of Wade given to him, using his gifts to hold Wade steady and still. Both men groaned deeply in tandem as Nate bottomed out, his body flush against Wade's.

Wade took in a slow breath, his head tucked forward so his chin rested on his collarbone. He could smell the raw power of Nate, a mixture of normal flesh and blood and sweat with a tang of metal and the spicy promise of electricity. Nate was large in every sense of the word and Wade welcomed it. He was so used to pain in every aspect of his life it made sense it would follow him to his preferred bed mate. It was a warm pain though, a good pain. It was a pain followed by an incomprehensible moan from the depths of Nate's chest which told Wade that the Summers was now focused totally on his body, on the physical. Both men could play the distraction game.

Nate closed his eyes against the onslaught of physical and emotional passion suddenly swirling in his head. Most people had a small amount of guarding over their thoughts--conscious or unconscious--but it took a powerful telepath to hide thoughts and emotions during intercourse. Nate wasn't even attempting to listen in, to join with Wade like that, but the mercenary practically shoved Nate through the doorway. Wade was need and desperation and desire and trust and fear and passion and... so many things. Nate kept his grip strong on Wade's hip as he tested their joining slowly, holding himself up from crushing his lover with another show of telekentic strength.

Wade found himself nearly purring as Nate started the motions. He let his hands hit the bed and curled them up into the pillows around his head. He closed his eyes and let a smug, fulfilled grin split his lips. The expression was broken by air being forcibly taken from Wade's lungs with each withdrawl. The pressure on his hips was divine but the cold air of a telekenetic grip separated them and that wouldn't do.

"You're not g--ooooo~ooo--nna crush me." Wade mewled.

"Wade, shhh." Nate growled, low bass of a voice perfectly under control as if he were watching TV or reading a book.

"We can get soo~ooo much clooooo~oooser." Wade attempted again, mouth and lungs caught on the expulsion of air required to 'o'.

"Hush." Nate repeated, but chose to listen this time.

Nate shifted and lowered himself down towards Wade. He kept himself from smothering the smaller man by bracing on his left arm. The right he kept locked onto Wade's hip bone. He circled his thumb against warming, moist flesh and dug his remaining fingertips in to find purchase. He dropped his head and pressed his lips against Wade's forehead, hunching his back into his thrusts to do so. His pace soon doubled, rocked the bed and made his tight grip on Wade's hips necessary if he didn't want to send the other through the wall.

Wade gladly took everything given to him, grinning when his mouth wasn't caught in a pleased grimmace. He tried to keep his eyes open--to focus on the faces Nate was making just above him--but not even Wade's hyperactive mind could concentrate enough to process visual stimuli. Knowing where both of Nate's 'real' hands were, Wade was surprised by the real but lifeless pressure around his own erection. He wasn't sure how Nate managed but somehow he gave Wade the distinct feeling of being the one doing the penetration. This was more than just a telekenetic hand job, this was some kind of telekenetic fleshlight.

"Sooo~ooo good at this." Wade chirped in between gasps. Nate groaned in response. "Could do this... ahhh! Aa~lll night."

"Clearly, I'm not straining you enough if you're still talking." Nate grumbled in a tone that contradicted his words. He certainly didn't seem out of breath or strained.

"Clearly." Wade smirked in response, mischief in his voice.

Without warning Wade found himself lifted by invisible hands as Nate almost rolled to lay on his back. It was a beautiful, strange and confusing maneuver, something Wade was convinced was only possible with Nate. The mercenary soon found himself seated in Nate's lap, their connection never having been broken through the rolling and re-positioning. Wade felt Nate's legs shift under him and the scarred man tilted his head to one side.

It was Nate's turn to offer a smirk, a mischievous and impish expression. He slowly removed both hands from Wade and folded them behind his head, never breaking eye contact with the man in his lap. He quirked one eyebrow and returned to serenely pumping Wade's erection with the deadly combination of ridiculous amounts of telekenetic power and an overactive imagination. He bucked his hips into Wade once or twice to jar senses back into the other man.

"Ride 'em, Cowboy."

"I'd sell my soul to set that as my ringtone." Wade whimpered before giving in to the command.

Never one to back down, Wade began riding Nate with everything he had. It wasn't a position he was used to but somehow he wasn't finding as much strain as he assumed he should have been. Even when appearing to surrender control Nate always had his hands in play. Wade couldn't even feel the grip of telekenisis helping him ride when he concentrated. It didn't take long, however, for all thoughts of 'find-the-telekentic-hands' to vanish. Wade poured all of his desire to please Nate into his movements. He rocked back and forth, bobbed up and down like a merri-go-round and swung his hips in circles that would have made Shakira green with envy.

Nate arched his back into the sensations, his body tingling with promise. Though he'd enjoyed giving Wade the illusion of relaxation he could not keep his hands away for long. He dragged them slowly up Wade's thighs letting his fingertips trace scars and patterns in the skin super-heated above him. He could feel muscles underneath rolling and stiffening to keep up with Wade's mind and intentions. He began rubbing and massaging Wade's thighs, his own trembling as he relaxed and let his end begin creeping up on him.

Wade managed to pry his eyes open long enough to watch Nate's 'so-close' expression. It was a strange and serene expression so unlike the grimmacing, teeth-baring, over-all frightening and psychotic pre-orgasm faces Wade was accustomed to. Nate didn't look anything other than completely content and calm; his lips were soft and his eyes were closed so lightly it was like a baby settling in for a nice long nap. /He's a God./ \Don't let him hear you say that; you know how he gets.\

Nate slowly opened his eyes, trying to keep his expression neutral as Wade's constantly running inner monologues breached his subconscious. He knitted his eyebrows together just slightly, ministrations to Wade's erection temporarily hiccuped in their rhythm. Was he right to keep doing this to Wade? He knew the mercenary worshipped him, idolized him; was this right? Should he--Nate's expression became momentarily pained as he tried to shut down his mind.

Wade let out a shout of surprise as Nate suddenly sat up, pulling Wade somehow further into his lap. Strong arms closed around Wade's back and Nate tucked his head to hide his face against Wade's chest. It was the most manly, most intense hug-fuck Wade had ever experienced. Even when Wade reached up to curl his hands around Nate's head like he was protecting something fragile and made of glass, it was still totally masculine. /Why bother?/

Nate's mouth fell open as he began thrusting into Wade with a reserved but desperate passion. The call was back, the urge was rising. There was a child and now a man calling for him, begging for help, to be saved. They needed Nate; no-one else could hear them. He couldn't go. He couldn't. He was tied up in Wade--in more ways than the obvious--and he couldn't keep running. There weren't enough hours in the day, not enough Nate's to go off and answer every call. If only they understood. If only he could separate himself from his destiny.

Now. Here. Present. Reality.

Wade began grinding his hips into the sudden onslaught of gratuity from his partner. His constantly moving mouth fell open to house a long, growing moan which didn't seem capable of ending. It rose and dipped in pitch like a roller coaster in his windpipe. He clenched his teeth and the moan continued as a hiss of restraint; a snarl of pent-up sexual frustration and longing. His rolling and grinding fell out of sync with Nate's and neither man tried to compensate or fix it.

Nate felt blissfully free and weightless as he gave into more carnal urges. He found release as he and Wade ground and rubbed and thrust against one another with all the coordination and grace of wild cats. His own release was silent, a passioned release into frantic heat. Wade was much more vocal, either giving sound to an unknown language or attempting a word in English that didn't quite translate from mind to mouth. Either way the men found themselves coming down in the dying echo of Wade's unintelligable proclamation.

For a few moments neither man moved aside from parting lips and expanding lungs. Slowly Nate leaned away, uncurling his arms from Wade's shoulders and leaning back. The mercenary retreated reluctantly, propping himself up on his knees to slide away. Nate's extraction forced out a hiss of air from Wade at the loss, followed by a soft grunt as he hit the bed rather roughly. Wade stretched his legs against Nate's side and leaned back onto his elbows.

Nate remained poised on his knees where he had risen to pull Wade flush against him. He looked and felt ready to stand and depart at a moment's notice. He let his arms hang at his sides, either not registering or not caring to clean the mess against his lower abdomen. The folds of his flesh looked painful against the melding of metal which bent much smoother as he panted to catch his breath. Wade frowned softly.

"You uh... wanna go clean up?" He chuckled breathlessly, jerking a thumb towards the shower. "I'll wash your hair for you. Miss mine, it'll be nice. You'll have to crouch though, kneel or ... maybe I can bring one of the kitchen chairs in and stand on that? Can--are those chairs water proof?"

"You don't ... you don't need to wash my hair, Wade."

"Who said anything about need? I was just offering. I /want/ too."

"That's unnecessary."

"Suit yourself, I'm good with my hands." Wade glanced towards the shower and then back to Nate. "So...?"

"Yes. A shower--that would be great. You go ahead, I'll meet you in a second."

"Sure thing."

Nate watched attentively as Wade trepidly made his way to the edge of the bed. He cautiously stepped down and gingerly sauntered down the hallway, surprisingly managing to refrain from whistling the tune he was marching to. The corner of Nate's lips twitched, trying to smile, trying to grin, trying to enjoy the normalcy and the happiness he could feel radiating off Wade. He couldn't. His mantra was slowly fading, the words no longer making sense. He didn't bother to move, kneeling naked with arms limply at his sides, as the call became louder and the itch greater and the pain worse.

Wade turned into the bathroom and grinned at the over-large shower stall pressed neatly into the corner. He wasn't quite sure where Nate got all his money--since the guy's parents were loaded but he wasn't really on good terms with his parents being not really a child they agreed to having but it wasn't like they hated him or anything it was just awkward for everyone so he tried to keep himself out of family business--but the guy didn't mind flaunting it and indulging. Which struck Wade as odd when he stopped to think about it, which he did as he opened the linen closet.

Nate was always so busy, always running around saving people and 'answering the call'. Why bother with fancy hotel rooms and suites? What did it matter that the built in kitchen was chrome and the tub could fit three people plus Nate? Why did he always get the rooms with California King sized beds and jumbotron sized flat screens? Nate hardly ever watched TV and sure he was a big guy but he didn't need that much space.

Wade frowned at the towels in the linen closet. They were standard sized, hotel towels, they weren't gonna cover Nate's balls let alone dry him off. Wade tossed one over his shoulder and marched back into the hallway.

"You know, Nate buddy, if you're gonna splurge on some things you might as well just go all out. These towels? Man, you get the chrome kitchen appliances and horse-sized bed but settle for baby towels? How do you..." Wade's voice trailed off as he stared at the bed... the empty bed.

Wade frowned.

"Now, here, present, reality, huh?" He mimiced, squeezing the towel in a death grip. "At least you got the big TV."


	2. Jack the Hammer orders Pizza

Jack Hammer frowned hard at the link in blazing blue text on his computer screen. He re-adjusted his glasses and looked again. The words didn't change so he hadn't imagined them, hadn't misread them. They were still the same, still blue, still un-clicked, untried and promising. He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. On one hand his computer was so old and busted he knew it couldn't handle another trojan. He'd cleaned it out and gutted it through hardware and software alike and the old machine tried to keep on trucking. It wouldn't be able to take much more.

On the other hand... costumed superhero gay porn, advertising full videos and a free trial? 

He moved the cursor to hang over the link. He chewed on his bottom lip. He lifted his index finger...

His bedroom window imploded with a bang and a million shrieks of breaking glass. Jack threw himself backwards and out of his chair to the floor half on purpose and half because his heart had just /ex/ploded. He crawled backwards in an uncoordinated, gasping mess as he stared at the hole where the window should have been. Through the glare in his glasses he saw the culprit rise, back-lit by the bright afternoon sun.

"Damnit, Wade! One of these days you're going to really kill me! I'll fucking haunt you the rest of your immortal existence, you hear me? I'll make you wish you /could/ die!"

"Aww, Weasel. That's kind of you but I don't need things I've already got. My momma bought me a death wish for my thirteenth birthday!"

"I'll kill you."

"Psssht, good to see you too, old buddy."

"Why do you say that every damned time? You saw me three days ago! And why is it always my motherfucking window? You have a key and if you've lost it you /can/ knock on glass."

"You act like this is a common occurrence. I've only broken like... two windows, man." Deadpool muttered, brushing glass off his shoulders. He studied the window for a moment and dropped the blinds. He smiled behind his mask.

Jack shoved a few things around on his desk until he picked up a folded and well-worn piece of paper. He turned and held it up in Deadpool's face.

"What's that?" Wade asked, studying the hash marks all of various lengths, widths and steadiness of hand.

"Your broken window tally."

"Ha! Yeah right. That could be a tally of how many superhero porn videos you've whacked it to." Deadpool flicked two fingers non-committally at the paper. Jack unfolded it with his thumb and glared, revealing the title--written in blood:

NUMBER OF WINDOWS MOTHERFUCKING WADE WILSON HAS BROKEN

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"You think of everything, don't you Weasel?" Deadpool congratulated, clapping the short and mousy man on the shoulder. He walked around the flabbergasted man and towards the kitchen in the next room.

"You got any milk? I'm parched."

"I..." Jack sighed and grabbed a robe. He pulled it on over his tank top and boxer shorts and followed the homicidal idiot into his kitchen. "I should have some, I don't know. It's been a while since I've had the money to go to the grocery store. Speaking of which," Jack growled, segue not at all unintentional, "did you get our money?"

"Our money? What's this... 'our money'?" Wade griped, opening the fridge and searching for the milk.

"I supply your weapons."

"And?"

"I make your upgrades. I help you track down your hits. I drive your ass all over town. I pay the bills you rack up. I clean up your messes. I handle the paparazzi--"

"Which, I told you, you really shouldn't do that. I need more coverage, more press."

"You need more self control and a god damned conscious." Jack's eye twitched as Deadpool turned from the fridge, half-empty carton of milk in hand.

"You need... to lighten up." Wade rolled up his mask part-way and began to chug the milk.

"Point is, you might be the one to pull the trigger or swing your swords or whatever, but without me you wouldn't be doing shit. You'd be a homeless, penniless idiot running around swinging your fists at people. Only reason you'd actually be able to find work is that you'd be able to outlast your hit... /if/ you could find them on your own."

Jack waited as Wade seemed to consider his words, finishing the last of the milk. The techie lifted his eyebrows as Wade turned to look at him.

"Didn't get the money."

"What!"

"Missed the shot and the guy booked it."

"Wade c'mon, seriously? This was easy money."

"So says the guy who doesn't pull the trigger or swing the swords."

Jack groaned and rested his head on the kitchen island counter. He let his arms hang at his sides.

"I'm late on everything, Wade."

"Sounds like a personal problem, Jack. Just get an abortion."

"So funny."

"Get a job!" Wade exclaimed helpfully, leaning on the opposite side of the counter, grinning down at his friend. "You're good at stuff and junk!"

"Nobody will hire me," Jack began, turning to look at Wade so that his chin rested on the counter, "because they all know I know you. Last place I worked had to close down because you shot an M80 through the roof."

"I told you and the authorities, Weasel, there was a fire."

"You don't put out fires WITH MISSILES, WADE!"

"Says you."

"Says reality." Jack sighed and lifted his head. "Why'd you really miss the hit, Wade?"

Jack frowned as Wade stood up and looked away. Jack recognized the tight-lipped expression, the hunch in Wade's shoulders, the clench of one hand. Jack shook his head and fixed his glasses.

"How many times have I warned you, man?"

"You don't get it, Weasel."

"I get it, Wade. Unrequited love? Trust me. Been there, done that, still doing that. I don't have somebody like /me/ to tell /me/ to wise up. But you do. I've been telling you for four years now that you need to just forget Nathan Summers."

"No can do, good buddy."

"Yeah well, you're just asking for it then. You can't let this interrupt your job, at the very least man. How hard would it have been to kill the guy, get your evidence and collect the cash before running off on another multi-dimensional booty call?"

"He might not have /been there/ when I was done, Jack!" Wade shouted, rounding on the counter and slamming his hands against the sink.

"He might not have been there at all; might as well never be there." Jack stated robotically. "Jeez, those words sound familiar. How is it that you've formed just a close bond with this guy when you never spend more than a day with him?"

"It's just--I don't... It's /Cable/, Jack."

"That's your excuse every time. 'It's Cable!', 'It's him!', 'It's different, you don't understand.'"

"Well..."

"Look, all I understand is that this mutant messiah uses you, abuses you and leaves you time and time again. It's always the same story, it's just split up between days or hours. He leads you along, Wade, like a puppy. He's got you on a chain in his backyard and you're too starry eyed to see it. Maybe if you'd look up from kissing his boots you'd see the shit he's putting you through." Jack frowned. He watched Wade clench and unclench his jaw. He'd stepped too far, hit a nerve too close to home. He sat back and lifted his hands.

"Ok, I'll back off, but please Wade, you gotta start thinking about this logically. You gotta figure this all out before it ruins you. If not for me, then for you. Maybe for him too. If he's gotta keep worrying about you back in this dimension, that's gotta take away from his attention on the other ones, right?"

"I'm his anchor." Wade muttered under his breath.

"Wade." Jack rubbed his temple. "I know the name of a really great therapist. She's helped me through some tough times. Can you--I'll drop the subject if you just agree to set up a session. One session, that's all."

"Fine."

"Ok, good. Now, let's see if we can figure out where this hit ended up." Jack moved back into his bedroom, followed by the now-sulking Wade. "He's got about a million aliases so this might take a while." Jack began rummaging through his personally designed tracking programs, ignoring the odd and uncomfortable silence behind him.

Wade let his eyes drift over the room in a tired way. He didn't want to hear Jack's lectures; Jack had a worse track record with relationships than Wade. Besides, Jack /didn't/ know Cable; he /didn't/ know the full story; he /didn't/ understand. Wade didn't have to prove anything to his sidekick. /Oooh, say it to his face. Go on, say it!/ \He likes it when you call him names. Do it.\

Wade opened his mouth but his words were drowned out by the sound of three very short, very crisp, very powerful knocks at the door. Wade glanced down the hallway and then to Jack. The duo met eyes and the knocks repeated.

"It's your apartment." Wade whispered as Jack tried to nod him to the door. Jack gave him a dirty look and stood.

The thin man moved into the hallway uncertainly.

"H-hello?" He called, tying the sash of his robe. "Who's there?"

Wade pulled a gun from his hip holster. He held it out in front of himself and closed one eye, aiming at the light switch to Jack's bedroom. Three more knocks sounded.

"I'm not opening the door unless you tell me who you are." Jack said confidently, creeping forward ever so slowly.

Wade tilted the gun in his hand, flicked off the safety. Three /more/ knocks, but they were faster this time. The knock-er was impatient.

"I said--"

The door flew off it's hinges, kicked by a powerful combat boot. Wade jumped to his feet and spun into the hallway. Jack screamed and immediately took cover. Domino and Deadpool narrowed their eyes at each other as Jack scrambled between Wade's legs to seek whatever cover his kitchen counter would provide him.

"Deadpool."

"Pizza girl."

"What?"

"Dominoes pizza? Get it? Geez. Looks like your sense of humor got stuffed into your bra."

Jack screamed again as a shot rang out. He covered his head and closed his eyes.

"OW!" Deadpool whined, dropping his gun to poke at the hole in his upper stomach. "What the hell was that for?"

"I'm not here to listen to your sexist jokes, Deadpool. I need answers." Domino pushed her way through the hallway. She ignored the door--wobbling on it's hinges--and let herself into the large kitchen slash dinning room slash living room.

"I'm not sexist." Deadpool grumbled as he followed her. "You can come out, Weasel. Domino knows not to shoot my sidekick."

"I'd be offended if I didn't think my life might depend on that title right now." Jack piped up quietly, moving around the counter as he stood. He wanted something between himself and the two-toned woman who had just kicked in his door and shot his guest.

"Where is he, Deadpool? Where's Cable?"

"Why does everyone assume I know where he is?"

"Aren't you his boyfriend or whatever?"

"No. Why? Did he say I was? What did he say?"

Jack rolled his eyes. Domino didn't seem intrigued or impressed either. She crossed her arms over her chest, large gun poised on top.

"Knock off the shit, all right? This is important. He missed a ron dez vouz with me a few hours ago. A very important one. I've been waiting but I've gotten no word from him."

Deadpool narrowed his eyes. Why would she call him Cable's boyfriend? As far as Deadpool knew Cable wasn't the kiss and tell type. Deadpool didn't think Cable had told anyone that they'd slept together. Why would she make that assumption... unless Cable had said it first?

"Are you surprised? From what I've heard of this guy... no-show no-call is the norm."

"Watch your tongue, skink."

"Weasel."

"Whatever. Cable is an incredibly powerful, incredibly important man. He's capable of things that would shatter your perception of reality. He's practically the only thing that's keeping this world and who knows how many others from collapsing in on themselves."

"Thank him for me the next time you see him."

'Boyfriend' was a strange word for Cable to use. It didn't seem like his kind of thing. Deadpool was pretty sure Cable would have said partner or mate or lover or something far more fancy and intelligent and wordy. Boyfriend. Pah. That was slang, that was beneath Cable. Who said boyfriend at thirty anyway? Sure people still dated in their thirties but boyfriends and girlfriends were school-age shit.

"This isn't a joke. This is serious. I wouldn't have tracked down this idiot if I didn't absolutely need to cover all my bases. We're fighting a war here, a war we can't win without Cable. Our enemies are powerful and they are everywhere." Domino leaned forward onto the counter, narrowing her eyes at Weasel as the man backed up a step. "I've seen what our enemies are capable of. If I were you I'd hold my tongue when speaking about Nathan Summers in polite company."

"You kicked down my door. You /shot/ my friend! How does that make you polite company?"

"I don't think you're grasping what's at stake here, Weasel. What these people have planned, what these bastards are going to do is going to make the Holocaust look like a small civil matter. You don't understand the power that's being pushed around here. If it was just death and destruction on the line things wouldn't be so bleak, but let me tell you there are worse things waiting if we fail."

"Well, pardon my cantankerous attitude but it seems like we're all pretty fucked if we're relying on Cable to lead us to victory."

"What the hell do you know?"

"Only that he's a Demi-god you people worship like Jesus who's got his head so far up his own miracle-working ass he can't remember what year it is let alone what dimension he's in."

Domino sneered. She turned her attention to Deadpool. She held her hands out incredulously until he seemed to notice her.

"Well?" She demanded.

"Well what?"

"You're useless. I'm leaving." Domino threw her hands in the air in exasperation as she turned to leave.

"No, 'cause if like that's what he said then yeah totally."

"If that's what... who said? What are you talking about?"

"The boyfriend thing."

"We moved past that twenty minutes ago!"

"We did? Where was I?"


	3. Sitting pretty

Deadpool sighed heavily, legs crossed indian style as he sat on the incredibly comfortable couch.

"I mean, I don't think Weasel's right. It sounds like he is, sometimes, but he can't be. Sure I gripe about it all the time but there's more to me 'n Cable that Jackie-boy doesn't know. It's like... it's a deeper connection. We don't need to spend every waking minute together--but ooh man that would be so great if we did--but we still know each other inside and out. Did that sound as sexual to you as it did to me? I didn't mean it like that. Well, ok, no initially I didn't mean it like that but actually now I kind of do. He did this thing last time we were going at it--if you catch my drift--and I swear he was somehow using his powers to let me fuck him while he was fucking me. Is there a kinder way to say that? That whole thing sounded really gross and immature. It wasn't, gross or immature. It was entirely mature and super awesome and way romantic and also genuinely masculine. I mean, the guy's like a hero and he hangs out with me. Me! I've got his cell-number on speed dial and he usually answers... when he's in this dimension, anyway. Sure he leaves a lot to be desired emotionally and it's really hard to consider yourself dating someone when you've never actually been on a date nor have you ever discussed the terms of your relationship. I mean for all I know he could be uh... romanticising--that better than fucking? Doesn't seem like you enjoy it when I say fucking--other people in other dimensions, but he doesn't seem like the type. I mean I do, sometimes, but... I /am/ the type. Unless we've got a solid yes or no thing going, no holds barred on me! No way! Not like I'm swimming in partners or anything. Actually I can't really recall the last partner I had before Cable so... maybe that's an unfair statement. Well, then again I certainly wouldn't turn down the opportunity for intimacy if the occasion arose while Cable was gone. Woah! What if he's in all these other dimensions sexing other-dimension me up? You think that's possible? You think that's why he always comes to me; always picks me but still seems so guilty? Like he's cheating but it's not really cheating because it's still me but it's not really me because I'm my own man and my particular circumstances made me who I am and who's to say the other me's are anything like me at all? Maybe they're just me in name and like blood type or whatever, or not, who cares. If it makes Cable feel guilty doesn't that mean he cares? And what's your take on the apartment thing? You think he's renting out all these penthouse places 'cause he knows I hang out around the rooms for a while after he's gone? You think he's like... my multi-verse sugar daddy?"

Wade's only response was a muffled croak. He blinked and then smacked himself on the forehead.

"Wow, I'm an idiot. I've been asking you questions all night wondering why you weren't answering. Duh! I left the sock in your mouth!"

Deadpool leaned forward to remove the sock from the mouth of the therapist he currently had tied to her office chair. He paused halfway as his phone rang. He glanced down at it.

"Oops, sorry, gotta take this. Could be important. Give me a second? Thanks! You're the best!"

Deadpool removed his phone from his belt. He stood up and answered the call, turning to face the large fourth story window.

"Weasel! Good news, right? Make it quick though, I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"In the middle of something? It's eleven thirty pm on a Wednesday, what could you possibly be doing?"

"Oh, I'm with that therapist you suggested! Man, I'm so happy I took your advice. She's great. We've made a ton of breakthroughs."

"Wade, may I repeat that it's eleven thirty PM?"

"Oh, well, I had to improvise and persuade a little bit. See I made the mistake of trying to book an appointment with my real name and that didn't go over too well. Firstly she said there was no way she was going to treat a known murderer and secondly something about conflict of interest. Funny, huh? I knew once she met me she'd change her mind!"

"Wade... I swear to god. Leave her the hell alone and get down here, Central Plaza and Three Cedar. I've got our hit."

"Oh, nice! See you in fifteen!" Wade quickly ended the call, ignoring whatever Weasel had started to say. Deadpool turned back to the woman tied to the chair. "Well, sorry to run on you like this but money don't wait. We can pick up next week, right? Same time, same place? Awesome. You're the best! Wow! Therapy, who'd have thought?"

The brunette stared as the masked mercenary strolled through her office and let himself out. Leaving her tied to her office chair...


	4. But first, let me take a selfie

'Come on Wade,' Jack thought bitterly to himself, 'what in Hell could be taking you so long? I feel like a sitting duck out here.'

Jack pulled his jacket tighter over his shoulders and sunk back into the driver's seat of his van. He'd been parked across the street from the hotel for an hour and a half and no sign of Wade yet. He was sure it was only a matter of seconds before someone called the authorities on him, it wasn't like he was in an unmarked van. Super subtle. He hated stake-outs, especially when Wade was late. He didn't mind the business he just wasn't the type to get his hands dirty directly. This was too close to the action for him. He would have rather been calling the shots from the safety of his apartment.

He considered turning the van on and letting it idle for a moment, it was starting to get cold, but movement down the street caught his attention. A single motorcycle had pulled up near the parking garage. It hadn't gone inside, it had simply pulled up alongside and parked on the curb. The rider sat up and looked around, face and head and any distinguishing features blotted out by an entirely black ensemble.

Weasel leaned forward as the rider knocked down the kickstand and stepped off the bike. They looked around cautiously--in a way that was totally trained, they didn't look to be scanning the area for witnesses--and started walking. Weasel narrowed his eyes.

"It's totally a chick."

Weasel let out a scream and jerked forward, laying on the van's horn. Wade clicked his tongue on the back of his teeth.

"Way to be sneaky, Weasel. The whole street knows we're here now."

"The whole street knew I was here already! I've been waiting for almost two hours! You /asshole/!"

"With the name calling? Already? We haven't even started having fun yet."

Jack declined to answer. Instead he re-situated himself in his seat, ignoring Wade groan from behind him.

"Really? Are we gonna fight here, now? Can't this wait until later, baby?" Wade lifted his hands defensively as Weasel gave him a killing glare. "Fine, no pleasantries. How is the target, partner?"

"Don't call me partner, and he hasn't left. He's got a body guard on each window, but from what I can tell your flub the other day didn't startle him too much. Here, look," Weasel handed over his binoculars, "he's just watching TV like nothing's wrong."

"In those boxers? Yikes." Wade frowned as he scanned the room. /Weasel doesn't know shit! The guy has doubled his security! He's terrified!/ \Yeah terrified and watching stand up comedy...\

"So what's your plan, Double O Jerk?" Jack grabbed the binoculars from Wade.

"I was thinking I'd head to the kitchen, grab a bite to eat, then steal a room service guy's uniform, cut off my arm--holding my gun!--shove it under one of those fancy gourmet keep-your-food-warm upside down bowls, then pull the old 'you order room service?' bit."

"Tacky. Plus... someone just beat you to it." Jack's voice was tense, a little worried. He shouted as Wade took the binoculars back with a gasp.

Wade narrowed his eyes as he focused in on the room once more. A guard stood at the door, clearly speaking with someone. He turned to reveal a female bell-hop, cart of food included. Wade cursed as the woman lifted her head... Domino.

"That bitch!" Wade shouted as Domino kicked the cart forward, but not before grabbing a set of pistols from underneath the top tray. Wade tossed the binoculars at Weasel and turned to exit from the back of the van.

"Now I don't get to wear a costume!" He yowled bolting for the hotel and throwing caution to the wind. "She's gonna pay; I /love/ wearing costumes!"

Ignoring whomever might be watching--and giving Weasel a migraine in less than two seconds--Wade pulled a grappling gun from his belt. He squared his feet, dug his heels into the dirt, aimed and fired. He felt the hook sink and he tugged back on it until satisfied it would carry his weight safely. He hit the retractor and ran towards the wall. His boots met dirty brick and he easily scaled the side of the building. He released the button as he neared the floor in question. He locked the grappling hook, side-stepped until he aligned himself with the window, then kicked off.

"YOU STOLE MY GAG!" He shouted, swinging forward and crashing through the window unceremoniously. He ducked and rolled into the middle of a loud and messy fire fight.

Weasel considered calling the cops himself as he watched his companion go crashing through a hotel window. He wasn't sure why it surprised him, he wasn't sure why it angered him: This was Deadpool and Jack should have known better. He rubbed at his temple and slowly, reluctantly lifted the binoculars once more.

Deadpool landed and rolled out of Jack's line of sight. In the now broken window Jack could see an over-turned armchair and the lower half of a guard's body. In the next window Domino had tucked herself in a corner by the door, while two remaining guards huddled on either side of the target behind a couch. The guards were reloading and the target was on the phone, clearly screaming by the red color to his cheeks. Domino dropped one of her guns and stumbled backwards as an armchair cushion hit her in the face. One of the guards behind the couch attempted to turn and see what had happened, when the same fate befell him. Now out of cushions, Deadpool catapulted over the armchair and put himself squarely between the windows again in Jack's blind spot.

Jack knew he shouldn't be worried. There were a multitude of reasons why he should not have been worried... Deadpool could not die--or if he could, every way he could die up in the apartment had been tested before--, this was an easy hit, these were wonderful odds for Wade, and Wade was being a dick so if he had to get shot a few times for kharma to repay him for what he'd put Jack through; Jack should have been appreciative. But he wasn't. He was worried. He stuck his thumb nail into his mouth and began chewing on it nervously.

Domino recoiled from a hit to her shoulder. One of the guards behind the couch threw himself bodily over the target as the other guard took at least two shots to the stomach. Domino's head flew backwards and she hit the ground with legs temporarily askew and in the air as a gun hit her in the forehead. Wade darted out from his hiding spot and ran up the couch, tipping it over so that it fell upon the three men hiding beneath.

"Should not have been worried." Jack grumbled.

"It's good that you were. You still care, and Wade is going to need people who still care once I'm through with him."

For what seemed like the millionth time that night, Jack almost jumped through the windshield of his van. He turned quickly in his seat, hand clutching his chest, and stared at the giant of a man who had managed to creep into his vehicle. A flash of light like the flash of a camera in slow motion illuminated half of the man's face.

"How... how did you... You're gigantic..."

"Tricks of the trade, my friend. What floor are they on?"

Jack stared hard at Cable. He was sure that was who he was. Wade had not been lying, not exaggerating one bit. Jack lifted a hand over his shoulder and pointed, because that was super helpful. He blinked.

"Eleventh."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Jack stared into the empty space previously occupied by Cable as the man turned to exit the van. The whole vehicle rocked back and forth on it's wheels, it groaned, it shuddered, the rocking was easily comparable to the amount of force generated in a rear collision. As Cable disembarked through the back the van jumped up about four inches at having such a large load removed. Somehow Weasel had missed all of that commotion as Cable climbed into the van. Jack jerked twice as both back doors were closed tightly but politely.

He needed a good stiff drink.

"He's dead now." Wade mumbled into the stale hotel room air, fingers on the wrist of the target. He sat on the back of the couch, still crushing the three men who had taken shelter there. They were all dead, quite dead.

Wade lifted his head as he heard a shout. Domino tossed herself into Wade and the duo rolled head over heels into the far corner. Domino wriggled her way on top, straddling Wade and locking her knees at his sides on top of his arms. She braced a hand on Wade's upper chest and began punching him with her right arm repeatedly. Wade began making garbled excuses, rocking back and forth in an attempt to free his arms.

"You reckless! Idiotic! Bastard!" Each punch came with a new insult. "You couldn't leave well enough alone! You never think about anything, do you? This was supposed to be quiet. There was more at stake here than the money on this guy's head! You've ruined everything!"

"MFffhmmm reegffllle snnrrffflg?" Deadpool managed through mask, mangled lips, wobbling teeth and blood.

Domino shouted again and brought both fists down onto Deadpool's chest. His head bounced off the floor and hit the wall with a crack. He continued mumbling. Domino repeated the attack and felt Wade's legs jerk underneath her. The mumbling stopped.

"I wish I could believe you were dead."

"I'm sure people would pay you handsomely, if that were the case."

Domino's head shot up and whipped around. She quickly untangled herself from Wade, wincing and stumbling to her ass as she attempted to lean on her wounded arm.

"N-nate." She stuttered, pushing herself to her feet. She hesitated and then took the offered hand. She tried her best to look ashamed as she watched Nate scan the room. The look of disappointment on his face growing into an impossible frown. He sighed heavily.

"Domino..."

"I can explain. I had everything under control, you know I always do." Domino started, speaking quickly. "It's--it's just him! He always knows exactly what to do to really fuck things up!" She reached up and clapped her good hand over the bleeding wound in her shoulder. "This was going smoothly and I would have been done in less than five minutes, mission accomplished if he had stayed out of it."

Domino felt her heart began to race as Cable continued to give her the silent treatment. She watched, pleading with him to let her know what he was thinking, as he lifted the couch. He gazed down at the bodies beneath and shook his head. He crouched next to the target and slid the guard aside, taking note of the severed spinal cord. He flipped the target over and the light in his eye flashed almost solemnly.

"You... You've gotta keep a tighter leash on your pet if you... if you intend to keep him around." Domino said quietly, unsure of the ground she walked onto.

"Deadpool is not a pet, Domino. He is a person. A living, sentient being same as you and I."

"Please do not lump me in with him. I'd rather be a machine than a human if it meant getting out of association with the likes of him." Domino winced as Nate turned and made quick eye contact. "Sorry."

Nate stood up and put his hands on his hips. He shook his head again and looked the room over.

"I just don't understand, Nate. He ruins everything. Every time! Nothing changes. He's efficiently put an end to this mission. This mission which was an integral part of everything we've been working on over the past two years, Nate! In one fell swoop he just made all our work meaningless."

"Not even a blunder by Wade Wilson could make our work meaningless, Domino. I think you're forgetting what's really at stake here, what's really in motion. This will set us back, but it's not the end of everything."

"Are you sure? Because I seem to remember discussions about how this man was the end all of our searching? Isn't he the only one who--"

"Domino, we can and we will find another way."

"Ugh! Why do you keep making excuses for him!"

"Becauthe... I make a... mean pancake." Wade grumbled, sitting up and pushing a tooth around his mouth. He rolled up his mask and spit it onto the carpet. Domino sneered as she and Nate watched Deadpool stand. He rubbed at his jaw and pulled his mask back down.

"Well, Nate, now what?" Domino hissed.

"We regroup, but first you need to cool off. I'm not willing to discuss matters with you further if you can't keep your head on straight." Nate glanced across the room and met Domino's eyes once more. She held his gaze and sneered. Between them Deadpool crouched and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The duo looked down as Deadpool squatted next to the target. He grabbed a handful of hair, lifted the head, and snapped a selfie.

"Photographic evidence." Wade chirped.

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." Wade made the target's head say, pulling up on the hair and down on the chin. Domino pointed at the merc viciously.

"You see this, Nate? Is this what you want attached to your name? If you're really one hundred percent dedicated to your cause then you need to start acting like it. This is only going to keep getting in our way. He's the antithesis of everything you're working towards. I'll cool down. I'll /get my head on straight/ but until you accept that Deadpool is a poison, nothing is ever going to come of this grand scheme. He goes, or I go." Domino turned on her heel.

Nate frowned hard and watched her gather the gun she'd dropped at the door. He remained silent as she turned into the hotel hall and ran. He turned his attention back to Deadpool, sitting next to the target and making faces with dead lips.

"Wade..."

"Look! It's like Mister Edd!"

"Wade, we need to talk."

"Are you pregnant? Is it mine? Oh you've made me the happiest girl at the prom!" Wade moved quickly to his feet and clasped his hands together. He leaned in towards Nate and grinned up at him through his mask. Nate did not seem amused. Wade blew a messy raspberry into his mask.

"You are so much fun." Wade crossed his arms over his chest.

Cable moved up beside the merc and wrapped an arm over his waist. He shook his head as he lifted them both effortlessly out the window. They glided through the air towards the van, struggling to start. Cable touched down just outside the driver's side window. He set Wade on his feet and nodded towards Jack. Jack slowly, cautiously rolled down the window.

"Mission accomplished, Weas." Wade muttered. "Me 'n Nate are gonna go have a heart to heart--which I'm hoping involves dinner and some K Y--I got the evidence, so I'll contact our man and meet you at your place with your half later, cool?"

"Ugh, sure..." Jack moved his gaze from Deadpool to Cable. He was more easily able to read expression on Wade's masked face than on the man who took no lengths to hide his identity. Jack looked back to Wade.

"Don't wait up!" Wade gave Jack a few pats to the head and returned to Cable's side.

"Up, up and away!" Deadpool chanted, stretching out one arm and pointing into the starry sky. He glanced over and up at Nate. He received a raised eyebrow. He dropped his arm.

"You ruin everything." He muttered as Nate's arm found his waist once more.


	5. What I wouldn't give for a beach right now...

Wade was half asleep by the time he felt them descend. He blinked his eyes a few times as Nate touched down first, making sure Wade had steady footing before releasing him. They were atop Wade's apartment building, set down right next to the roof access door. Wade frowned hard under his mask. He watched as Nate turned his gaze upward, monitoring the stars like he was keeping naughty school children in check.

"So... is it a boy or a girl?"

"There are big things coming, Wade." /Ah, ever so vague, ever so helpful./ \At least you can't say he's a downer.\ "Very big things."

"Babies are big things."

"This world is on the brink of change, of complete change. A complete overhaul of everything that everyone here believes in is coming. There will be chaos. There will be terror and death and war. It will be the end of all things, Wade."

"Look, I know having a baby changes you, but there's no need to be so dramatic."

"This world needs me now more than ever. There is no way to stop the coming tide, believe me I have looked. I have striven for a solution to a problem that has not yet reared it's head. I have tried to find ways and create theories and fail safes but nothing is going to stop it. This world is a bull on a rampage. No one can stop it, we can only hope to guide it's rage down the path of least destruction."

"We're still talking about you carrying my baby, right? Because the bull analogy lost me."

"I cannot stop it but I can help. I can guide and give hope. I can save people, Wade, millions upon millions of people. Anyone willing to listen to what I have to say; anyone willing to try. Our world is going to be torn asunder, but I can offer sanctuary. I can offer safety."

"Woah, man. That's the first time I've heard you call it 'our world'." Wade frowned, arms at his sides as Nate turned to him. He lifted what should have been eyebrows as Nate put both hands on his shoulders.

"I'm going to create a haven, a paradise of peace and understanding. I'm going to create a modern day Eden for every man, woman and child who seeks protection. I'm going to make a place of learning and brotherhood; a utopia of non-violence and of bettering oneself. Everyone will be welcome as long as they lay down their arms and closed minds. While I cannot stop the world from crumbling, I can provide for those willing to change, to ensure it does not happen again."

"Nate, you're freaking me out. /Me./" Wade reached up and put a hand over Nate's right, cupped tightly against his shoulder. "One step at a time, G.I.Jesus."

"I know it's hard to accept, to imagine, but it's happening. I've already started. I have gathered a team of like-minded individuals, humans and mutants and people from other times and other places and other planets! Together we are starting work on what is to be the beginning of a new life, a new world. We will be unstoppable, and by the time catastrophe strikes we will be a unified force against the darkness which threatens to swallow all life as we know it."

"And you're telling me this because...?" Wade felt his heart drop into his stomach as Nate broke eye contact. Highly toxic stomach acids began eating away at his coronary muscles as Nate pulled his hands away and turned.

"Oh. I get it." Deadpool supplied darkly. "You're telling me not because I'm invited, but because I'm supposed to keep out? Stay away? Is that it?"

Cable did not answer. He closed his eyes and left his back turned to the mercenary.

"It is a delicate procedure, Wade. These beginning steps are so fragile..."

"And you can't afford to have me fucking everything up?" Wade took a step back. "Real noble of you, asshole."

"It's not like that, Wade. I promise." Nate turned and tried to meet Wade's gaze. It was difficult. "You don't understand now, but you will. I promise. It's for the greater good. Your pride is hurt, that's all. Once this is all over you will see the light, you will understand."

"You trying to convince me or yourself?" Wade snapped. He turned and crossed his arms over his chest.

The rooftop was silent. Wade tightened his arms around his torso, digging his fingers into the fabric of his suit. Nate stood, arms at his sides, eyes downcast. After a long moment Wade sighed loudly. Nate looked up.

"What are you going to call this place? Shangri'la?"

"No. We're calling it Providence."

"That's a stupid name for a baby. She'll get picked on. Can't we go with something more hip, more modern? What about Iggy?" Wade turned in time to see a sad smile cross Nate's face. His heart tried to free itself from the tendrils of digestion.

"I have to do this alone."

"What do you mean... alone? You can't raise a baby on your own. You're not even lactating!"

"Wade, I'm serious."

"Do I at least get child support?"

"Not if I'm the one having the baby."

"Divorce sucks, man."

Nate closed his eyes and his mind to the anguish radiating off the shorter man. He knew this was the right thing to do. He had known it would hurt--everyone--but it had to be done. He had to stay focused on the bigger picture. He could not let little details stop him because in the end little details didn't matter. One day or one year of hurt would be nothing compared to what would happen if he failed, if he denied his calling. He took a step forward and tried to put a hand on Wade's shoulder. The mercenary shrugged it away.

"I--"

"Don't apologize. You don't mean it."

Nate frowned harder. He nodded. He took a step back and lifted into the air. He hesitated hanging about two feet from the rooftop, running his tongue over the backs of his teeth, thinking, and then he looked away and lifted further into the sky. Wade tightened his grip on himself before caving in and looking up.

Nate was gone. \How many chapters do you think we can end like that before it becomes redundant?\ /Should we try fancier words next time? Nate abandoned us./ \Nate forgot we existed, again.\ /Nate pulled out our heart and stitched it to a shit./ \Stitched it to a shit?\ /Eh, I'll work on it./


	6. I need a vacation from my  vacation!

"France?"

"I don't like bread."

"Calcutta?"

"Too humid."

"Las Vegas?"

"Nah. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas and I don't want to walk into that mess again."

"New York?"

"Ah! That's it! That's perfect!" Wade fairly leapt off of Weasel's couch. He quickly darted over to the kitchen island counter where his partner sat, scanning through a list of open hits on his laptop. Weasel tapped the listing.

"It's pretty simple stuff, considering it's New York. I guess they figure all the big names have better things to do. It's a revenge hit. Some guy--eww, wow--some mob boss took this man's little girl and uh... Well, I don't want to say it out loud. Read for yourself." Jack tilted his head so that Wade could read. The mercenary let his chin rest on Jack's shoulder, unaware of the tingle it sent down his friend's spine. For a second Jack winced as Wade began reading the listing out loud--under his breath, but still audible--but the words halted with a dark silence. Jack could see Wade's eyes devouring the listing through his mask.

"Yeah. That's the one." Wade said darkly. He reached up and gave a friendly squeeze to Jack's other shoulder. 

"It'll be a nice way to ease back into things, back into normal things. Well, as normal as things get for you." Jack stood up and stretched. He'd been looking at listings all night.

"No more gene splicing and alien probes?" Wade sighed dreamily.

"Uh, well, this is /New York/ we're talking about. I'd like to make that promise, Wade, but you know what goes down in New York." Jack walked around the island counter to start a cup of coffee.

"You know what doesn't go down in New York? Schwarma. That stuff'll come right back up on you." Wade tapped his fist into his chest a few times then burped loudly. 

"Says the man who's been banned from the all you can eat Mexican place." Jack pulled two large mugs out of one of his kitchen cabinets. "If we're lucky, this can be more like a vacation than work."

"Every day is more like vacation than work for me, Weas. I love what I do."

Jack tossed a grin over his shoulder as Wade took back his reclined position on the couch. He returned to making coffee.

Jack was not stupid enough to assume Wade was ever going to be well adjusted, but there were levels of adjustment. Jack was relieved to see Wade slowly sliding into what passed for 'good', first hints of the Wade Jack knew since the Nate incident months ago. Jack knew enough about Cable to know the guy was practically a saint but he could find no good will for the man in his own heart. Sure Wade was annoying and the idol worship could get old--Jack assumed--but that didn't give this Cable character the right to pull Wade around like he did. 

Jack told himself it was just friendly worry that was boiling his blood, but he was starting to agree with himself that it was more. Maybe a nice trip to New York--hopefully a nice quiet trip--would settle things for the both of them. If there was a person on the planet worse with relationships than Wade, it was Jack.

"I haven't been to New York since I was a kid." Jack mused out loud, pouring two cups of coffee. He filled his all the way, but left the second mug half empty. 

"I think I was there a few years ago, memory is fuzzy. But I know Captain America was there and he usually hangs out in the Big Apple... right?" 

Jack shrugged, grabbing creamer from the refridgerator. He filled the other half of Wade's coffee mug with creamer, then reached for the sugar.

"At least I think it was Cap. I remember being hit in the face with something distinctly shield like. Ha! Get it? S.H.I.E.L.D. like and shield like?"

"If you did it was well before we were working together, Wade. I would have remembered you versus Cap." Jack carefully handed the sugar, creamer and little bit of coffee to Wade. 

"Oooh, yeah you would have, that's right." Wade cooed, sitting up and rolling up his mask. "Your privates are all eager to salute Cap, aren't they? He makes you feel goo~ood and patriotic." 

"Classy, Wade."

"You still have that red-white-and-blue /friend/?" Wade chuckled. "The uh... the All American Challenge?"

"None of your business."

Wade snorted into his coffee, giggling 'you do~oo' under his breath. Jack rolled his eyes. He then paused to try and remember where he had stuffed the thing. If this turned into a mad scramble towards Jack's bedroom in order to find the evidence, Jack needed to know where he was going. His room was such a mess.

"Hey," Wade started, looking up. He tilted his head curiously to one side as Jack jumped to his feet and darted towards his bedroom. After a second Jack stopped and turned around. Wade lifted his eyebrow place holders. 

"Uh, sorry. Thought I ... heard something." Jack muttered, reclaiming his seat. "You were saying?"

"You think if I put on a pigeon suit I could get away with crapping in Central Park before the cops were called?"


End file.
